


Miles to Go Before I Sleep

by Lamport



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1 Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:59:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamport/pseuds/Lamport
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: 5 times Daryl had to share a bed with someone and 1 time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles to Go Before I Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotLaura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotLaura/gifts).



> This is for Laura, who likes 5+1 fic and cold weather. 
> 
> Thanks to Steph for being the best beta ever™. The title comes from Robert Frost's poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.
> 
> I don't own the Walking Dead or its characters - though that would be sweet.

**1\.  Mom**

 

Daryl could tell that his mom was still awake from the thick smell of tobacco that hung in the air.  He rolled over and looked up at her.  She was sitting up in bed, reading a battered looking book with a picture of a half-naked man on the cover by the dim lamplight. Her dirty blonde hair was down around her shoulders, mascara mussed around blue eyes.  He watched her, rapt, while she took a deep drag, holding the cigarette with slim fingers, then flicking the ash with her chipped red thumbnail into a coffee cup on her lap.  

Daryl thought she looked beautiful.

She glanced down and he pretended to be asleep, but she was wise to him.  A second later he felt her cool hand on his forehead, checking the state of his fever.

“How you feeling, bug?  Not gonna ralph again, are you?”

Truthfully, he felt a lot better - once he’d finished puking all over his bed a few hours ago.  His mom sighed when she saw the mess, shook her head and simply stripped him out of his pyjamas and brought him into her bed.  He could still taste the sour leftover sick in his mouth.  Daddy was gone somewhere - working a shift, and hopefully not off at the bar - and Merle was asleep in his own room, so it was just the two of them.  Daryl liked it best this way.

The embarrassment of remembering how he couldn’t control his body, and the awful feeling in his stomach brought hot tears to his eyes.  

“N-no.”

The mattress shifted when Mama turned to face him and lifted the corner of the blanket to wipe the wetness from his face.  She sighed again, tiredly.

“Nothing to cry about. I ain’t mad at you.”

He leaned forward and pushed his face into the shoulder of her t-shirt.  She was soft and warm.  For some reason, he cried harder.  She laid a hand on his hair.

“Oh, Daryl.  You are the sweet one, aren’t you?”

 

**2\.  Merle**

 

Daryl tried his best to drown out the sound of his old man and the random blonde waitress he brought home, but it was no use.  The lumpy pillow clamped over his ears was no match for the moaning and thumping going on on the other side of the thin wall next to his single bed.  He considered grabbing his sleeping bag off the linoleum in his bare closet and taking off to sleep somewhere outside, but it was the middle of February and far too cold.  The trailer was a peice of shit, but at least it was warm...most of the time.

It didn’t help matters that he’d been right in the middle of a dream (where Mary-Ann from Gilligan’s Island and Chrissy from Three’s Company were somehow teaching his grade 8 Geography class and bending over his desk, smiling with their perfect white teeth and curves), when the asshole and his “date” stumbled into his room and flicked on the lights.  They were both drunk off their asses, laughing and pawing at each other - not really sparing Daryl a glance.  The blonde’s eyes widened when she saw him wincing and scrambling to pull his ratty blanket up to his chin.

“Wrong room, sugar,” the old man slurred, grabbing her roughly by the wrist and pushing her down the hall before slamming the door shut.  Then they were gone, leaving him to get out of bed to turn the light off, semi-hard, face burning, and completely mortified.  Sleep was pretty much impossible after that.

Daryl huffed a sigh and started at the ceiling tiles, counting the dots in the dark, waiting for the noise to stop.  The red light from the alarm clock beside his head told him it was 2:57. So much for that Biology test tomorrow.

The sound of glass sliding, and a gust of frigid air were all the warning he had before Merle tumbled gracelessly through his bedroom window and onto the floor.  Once again, Daryl put his bare feet down on the cold floor and stepped over his big brother to shut the window.  

“What are you doing here?  Thought you wasn’t comin back.”

Merle sat up, rubbed his hands together, and blew on them to get the circulation back.

“Change of plans, Darlyna.  Got locked out of the barracks, and it’s colder than a witch’s tit out there.  I’m freezing my balls off!”   

Daryl crawled back into bed.  He heard Merle’s boots hit the floor before he felt a draft on his back where his brother was pulling back the blanket.  He reeked of whiskey.

“Move over,” Merle hissed, giving Daryl’s shoulder a shove and pushing him flat against the wall.

“Ain’t no place to move to!” Daryl hissed back.  Merle’s icy foot bumped against his leg, toenails scratching him.  

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Merle yawned.  He wiggled into a more comfortable position, leaving Daryl trapped and cramped beside him.  Not five minutes later Merle began to snore.  Next door the woman groaned.

He missed his mom.   

 

**3\. T-Dogg**

 

The winter after the farm fell was one of the worst Daryl could remember, at least in terms of weather.  There weren’t too many hours in the day where he couldn’t see his breath, or his fingers didn’t stiffen up on the trigger when he was hunting (even with his fingerless gloves).  

The cold had it’s advantages too.  Rick was right about the walkers - they moved a little slower, and fell a little easier.  Best of all they smelled a whole lot better.  When he went outside and took a breath, death wasn’t the first thing he detected in the air.   

Since the fall they’d been on the move, scavenging and surviving, but never staying any place too long.  There were herds, and other groups like Randall’s who’d shoot to kill before they asked questions, or noticed the bump sticking out from the gap in Lori’s coat.  They had to be careful.  He had to keep them safe, especially the boy.

They found an old farmhouse with a clear chimney in the living room and built a small fire.  Rick was always paranoid about smoke giving them away, so he took first watch that night, leaving Carl sandwiched between Carol and Lori on the fold out couch.  Maggie and Glenn took the love seat closest to the fire, Hershel and Beth on a narrow mattress at their feet.  That left T-Dogg, tossing and turning in the corner on a pile of couch cushions and an embroidered throw pillow that read “Home is Where the Heart Is.”  There wasn’t space in the room for Daryl to lie down, even if he wanted to.

He was exhausted, there was no point in denying it.  After a full day that involved patching a busted radiator hose on his truck, hunting for three hours with nothing to show for it, and a cup of hot soup that Carol seemed to conjure from thin air, he was done.  He tried his best to keep his eyes open while he cleaned his remaining bolts in the doorway, but the pop and crackle from the fire was making it near impossible.

“Get some sleep.  You’re about to fall over.”

Daryl blinked, and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes.  It was T-Dogg who spoke.  

“Nah. I’m good,” he replied, but the last word turned into a yawn.

“C’mon. You ain’t no use to us if you pass out tomorrow,” he whispered.  Then the big man lifted the corner of his blanket, bleary eyed, and motioned with his head.

Daryl snorted.  There was no way he was going to share a bed with anyone, let alone a man, even if those cushions did look softer than the hardwood under his ass.  He was no queer.  

T-Dogg glared at him.  “You think…?  _Whatever_ , man.”  He huffed and turned over, pulling the covers up over his shoulders.  He looked warm.

What would Merle say if he crawled up next to a dude and spooned all night?  

Then again, Merle wasn’t there.  

“ _Fine_ ,” he muttered, putting the bolts away and shuffling his way to the make-shift bed.  A quick glance confirmed that everyone else was sound asleep anyway.  He pushed the cushions together to close the gaps and tugged on the covers roughly.  T-Dogg didn’t move, but he relinquished his grip and let Daryl have more of the blanket.  He couldn’t stay awake long enough to care that their backs were touching.   

 

**4\. Judith**

 

Daryl didn’t know much about babies before the turn other than the fact that they were smelly and loud, and he didn’t want any.  Living in close quarters with Judith was changing all of that.  Every formula run had another random item on the list he’d never heard of to help keep the baby quiet and clean.  Pacifiers, nail clippers, carriers, teething rings, toys, cream for her diaper rash, it never ended.

Everyone had their little tricks to keep Jude happy.  Glenn would repeat her babbling back to her until she clapped and squealed.  Beth sang her to sleep.  Carol put plastic cups in her hands to keep her from putting her hands in the mess when she was getting her diaper changed.  Rick was a pro at slipping a finger in her mouth and massaging her gums before she started to cry.  And Daryl… mostly got out of the way and let them do their thing.  It was his job to make sure Jude didn’t starve, and that was enough.

He learned new things every day--like the joys of cutting teeth.  (Pain-in-the) Ass-kicker was passed off to just about everyone who could stand her, but their compassion for her discomfort only lasted a few hours before they gave up and plopped her in someone else’s lap.  

Carol was lasting the longest out of everybody that night, murmuring her sympathy in the baby’s ears, and pacing the length of the grated walkway over and over.  Jude continued to wail, flouting the rule about quiet after lights out like she was daring them to enforce it.  

Daryl watched from his bed as Carol passed by his cell, back and forth, her bouncing getting a little more rigorous each time.  He knew she’d be up early the next morning for her shift on the fences.  She needed to rest.

“Giver ‘er here,” he called to Carol, leaning out of his cell with his arms open.

She looked at him a little skeptically, walking back and hefting Judith a little higher on her hip.

“She’s just going to keep you up,” she sighed.

“That’s alright.  Let me try.”

He knew Carol was exhausted because she didn’t argue after that, passing the squawking baby into his arms.  She planted a grateful kiss on his cheek, and turned to walk back to her cell before he could blush.

Judith’s crying subsided for a few minutes while she registered the fact that a new person was holding her, before her lower lip quivered and she started up fresh.  He tried bouncing her, like he’d seen Carol do, but it felt strange and did nothing so he stopped.  

“Nothing to cry about.  You hush now.”

She stopped at the sound of his voice, so he kept talking while he maneuvered her into the bunk with him, laying her on her stomach.

“It’s night time.  That means you gotta sleep.  No one wants to hear that racket.”

She fussed a bit while he got more comfortable beside her.  He touched the teething ring in her hands, finding it slobbery and lukewarm instead of cool like it was supposed to be.  If only they had a damn fridge.

“You need something cold, huh? We’re fresh out of ice cubes, but let’s see what we can find…”

Daryl reached over the side of the bed, feeling around desperately for something cool, and touched a knife.  Definitely not a good thing for a baby to chew on.  Next to the knife was his crossbow.  He was just about to give up and get up to find something in the kitchen when his fingers brushed the metal stirrup of the bow.  It was cold, and small enough to put in her mouth…

Even though he cleaned the damn thing earlier he took the rag from his back pocket and wiped the stirrup for good measure, then he removed the loaded bolt.  

“Let’s not tell your daddy about this, alright?”

He flipped Judith onto her back and rested the crossbow on his arm, splaying a hand on her belly and positioning the metal bar into her mouth.  She clamped her gums around it immediately, and the crying stopped.  

The last thought he had as they both drifted off was that maybe this baby thing wasn’t so hard after all.

 

**5\. Aaron**

Daryl spotted the trapper’s cabin first, even though Aaron was the one with the binoculars.  The storm blew up quickly, bringing with it freezing rain that turned to hail, that turned to snow, then back to rain again.  His boots were soaked through and his toes had numbed completely.  They were trekking back to Alexandria on foot after their car slid clear off the road and into a tree.  Thankfully, neither of them were hurt, but that didn’t stop them from being pissy about it.

The cabin was so small a fire was out of the question, but they had to get warm or risk losing toes and fingers.  Aaron explained all of this to him like he was a petulant toddler, stripping his sweater off and climbing into a tiny cot with scratchy wool blankets.  Sharing a bed with T was one thing, but Aaron?

“Nah. Just hand me a blanket.”  He pulled the flaps of his sodden hat down around his ears.

Aaron rolled his eyes.  “You’re telling me you’d rather risk hypothermia than get into bed with me?”

“You gotta say it like  _that_?”

“Listen, Daryl: even if you were my type, which you are not, Eric is waiting for me at home just like Carol is waiting for you.”

Daryl stood there dripping, considering.  This just made Aaron angrier.

“Oh, for goodness sake!  Do you think this situation is really getting me in the  _mood_?”

Daryl chuckled.  “Never heard you raise your voice before.”

“Will you just get over here already?”

Daryl bobbed his chin before shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his flannel up over his head.  Aaron moved to make room for him on the cot.

“You tell anyone about this, you’re dead.”

“Believe me, if Eric ever finds out about this we’ll  _both_  be dead.”

 

**+1. Carol**

 

The light coming in from the windows was weak and white.  Daryl lifted his head high enough from the pillow to confirm that it was still snowing - big fluffy flakes that coated the top of the wall.  Winter in Virginia was a lot different than Georgia.  He’d never experienced snow like this.  The wind buffeted the house all night long, rattling the shutters.  

The furnace kicked on with a low hum, and warm air washed over his face.  Downstairs he could hear Rick shuffling around to put the coffee on.  He knew he should get up and find something useful to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.  Curled up beside him, her face slack and beautiful, Carol slept on.  

The duvet was downright cozy, trapping in their body heat and lulling him back to sleep.  He drifted in and out until Carol stirred.  She rolled her body closer, soft bare breasts pressing against his arm as she laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at him.  In the light her eyes were almost grey.

“Morning,” she whispered, like he was still asleep.

“Mornin,” he replied, revelling in the way her hand slipped over his stomach, rousing him with an easy touch.

She draped her leg over his, and he could feel the heat of her inner thigh against his hip.

“Are you…  _up_?” she teased, moving her hand lower.

“Yeah, you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The coffee could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. It's not another chapter of Slaughtered. I promise that's coming! Hope you like. <3


End file.
